Versión Español

I’m losing my son.

That’s what my thought was as I woke up in the middle of the night last night. No, it’s not that he’s dying (thank goodness). Nor is he being taken from me by anyone, or being rebellious and running away from us in any way. He is, after all, only 12. No, I’m afraid the problem is much worse than that.

He’s growing up.

Now before you accuse me of using “clickbait” to get you to read this, when you wake up at 4 in the morning, this thought can be (and was) nearly crushing. After years of anticipating being a dad, after 4 kids and 12 years of building a family, of sharing times together, of watching them grow and learn and struggle and mature, to suddenly realize that in 5 short years he’ll be gone and our family that we have invested so much love and effort into will begin to dismantle is a hard thought to swallow. And it’s not just him. I know that every two years after that, another one will graduate and be ready to head out. Yes, I know that they may move in and out for a while, and that they’ll still be around, but still… they’ll be going. And then they’ll be gone.

And right now, that thought kills me.

I know I’m not discovering anything new. Parents throughout history have been dealing with this reality. Maybe the situations or the feelings are different now, or stronger than they used to be because of our culture or something, but I’m not convinced about that. Maybe I’m just a super sentimental guy who’s overthinking the situation. There’s probably a lot of truth to that one. But still, the reality is, losing your kids – losing anybody! – whether it’s through death, or rebellion or just them leaving, sucks. We grieve the loss. I very much recognize that I’m getting hit with a wave of what they call “anticipatory grief”. The thought of losing him, or any of my sons, is deeply sorrowful for me, and might be amplified because we expect to be in Mexico when he graduates, and it’s entirely possible that he’ll head back to Canada for school or to work. So when he leaves, he could really leave. And I grieve how that will change the dynamics of our family, especially since right now, our four boys are each others’ best friends.

So what do to with this grief? I can suck it up, because it’s still 5 years away, but that doesn’t change that it will happen and that 5 years will fly by. I can be grateful that I still have him around, and that even after he moves out we anticipate being able to see him regularly, at least for a few years. And I am grateful for that. Or I can accept that this is just part of life, and I have to deal with it. Definitely some truth in that. But for me, this brings up a bigger question.

What happens when he, or I, or another of my sons, or Terra, leave permanently? What happens when one of us dies?

Ay, there’s the rub! All this loss, all this grieving, just anticipates the day when that loss becomes permanent, and these relationships that we’ve spent so much time investing in come to an end. How can that be? How can something so precious, so valuable, just end? Am I wrong for feeling gypped, for feeling like that answer (that it all just ends) doesn’t match with what we sense? Why, despite our culture’s claims that we believe in pure evolution and that man has to make his own fate and that there is no transcendent meaning, do we end up looking at a child asking about God and say, “One way or another we all end up back together in the end. That’s what you’re asking, right?” (quote from the movie Gifted, starring Chris Evans and Mckenna Grace – go see it!) While that particular one is a made up interaction, it highlights our desire to continue, to keep going, to not lose what we love and who we have become.

And so when I wake up in the middle of the night, grieving my loss-that-will-be, I turn to God – more specifically, to Jesus – believing that he exists, believing that life transcends this world, that all that we experience and the relationships we long to see continue will actually do so.

It’s true that I have many questions about what happens after death. We have no eyewitness accounts, after all (other than Jesus, who really didn’t give us many details about what comes next). But our options are rather limited – we either cease to exist, keep existing as the people we are, or somehow reincarnate/merge into some form of oneness. Sure, there are variations, but those are the three main ones. I hope to examine that concept next week.

It’s also true that I have lots of questions about Jesus and God, but I’m coming to realize that many of them come not from evidence or lack thereof, but rather from presuppositions that make it hard to believe. Hopefully I can get to that topic in a few weeks.

But in the meantime, I’ve got a son (or 4) to put to bed. 5 years are going to go by really fast, and I want to take advantage of them.

2 thoughts on “I’m Losing My Son…

  1. Really enjoyed reading your article Chris! You write very well!! Definitely true! But they do come home and that makes those visits even more special and meaningful when they want to come and visit you as an adult!

    Like

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